Those Perfect Surfing Days

From the late ‘60s to the late ‘70s, I had so many thrilling moments at Hammond’s Reef that they seem like a hazy, timeless dream now (“To the Meadow Born,” by Ann Herold, Style, June 25). I remember one day when I was among about six people in the water. The water was so clear and the waves so smooth, I could hardly see the face or the trough of the waves as I planed swiftly along one soft curl after another. And resting in the grass just off the sand was a taste of heaven--something I’ll never forget.

Surfing in its halcyon days had both pure and more grubby aspects, but I still think of Hammond’s as a spiritual home. I no longer surf, though I may again someday, but I do have great memories of what it meant to surf at a place that was so much more than another surf spot. The Ron Stoner photograph of Hammond’s conveys some of that feeling, but you really had to experience it to know what it meant on a deeper level.

Tim Jahns

Upland